


Endless Beat

by Omorka



Category: Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Genre: Dancing, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don and Kathy have a morning rehearsal for their latest film, and they're coaxing Cosmo to give them a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Beat

**Author's Note:**

> Intended to take place several months post-canon, after one or two Lockwood &amp; Selden films have come out but before Kathy's a household name. Originally written for the prompt "Singin' In the Rain, Don/Kathy/Cosmo: dancing - 'I get a kick out of you,' " for the LJ Springkink community.

Sunlight still tinged with the soft orange of dawn spilled through the entrance as Don slid the door open, rattling on its track. The cameramen used to joke that he was "late to bed, early to rise," and snickered about what he'd taken to bed that had him so eager to be out of it and here instead. They'd stopped once he and Kathy had announced their engagement, although whether that was out of deference to her feelings or from a sudden fear he'd split their lip, he wasn't sure.

Today's soundstage was huge, an empty warehouse of dreams with its edges lined in wires and cables. Don found the main switchboard and brought up the lights. Someone had left a backdrop up from the last film, a vast sheet of sky-blue mottled with clouds. Must have been another Great War flying-ace picture; he couldn't keep track. At least the studio was doing well on that front.

This film was going to need something snazzier, though. He stepped back to where the camera would be and began blocking things out with his hands. The picture was going to start on the mean streets of Chicago; they'd need a backdrop of tenement buildings and small shops, leaning in over the street, with big-city lights behind and above. There'd be a street cart there, parked cars there, a stoop over here. Our Hero would emerge from one of the beat-up apartments over here; at this stage in the film, he'd be all tough-guy swagger. Don found the spot and strutted towards the imaginary camera, one hand in his pocket.

"In character already, Don?" sang a sweet, familiar voice from the doorway. Kathy picked her way through the tangle of lighting cables and joined him at the edge of the stage. He swept her up in a huge hug; they'd parted ways only a few hours beforehand, but that didn't matter - he was always glad to see her. She laughed in his ear. "Don Lockwood, we're on the company clock. Put me down this instant."

"If this place had a time-clock, which it doesn't, it wouldn't start until 9 am. This isn't exactly a location set." Don frowned slightly at the memory of 5:30 am calls to get the magic light of dawn over a few scenes from the historical pictures. He wasn't sure why it mattered so much to get the lighting right, when the colors wouldn't even show on the film, but then, he was an actor, and now a first-time director, not a grip.

She smoothed her dress back down as he set her gently on the stage. "So, you were working on the opening scene? Or something later on?"

"I was thinking," he said, steering her over to one side with a gentle hand on her shoulder, "that Rocco should enter from this side, and then do the little dialogue bit in front of the hot-dog cart here, so when his moll arrives in her cab . . . "

Kathy stepped into the space that would be the street, and mimed climbing out of a car and tipping the driver. "Thanks, hon, you're a doll!" she chirped to the invisible cabbie.

Don grinned. "So when she arrives, they're already in place for the music to start for the first big number."

She nodded, scrutinizing the stage. "Is that going to be just us, or us and Rocco's gang, or us and the neighborhood?"

"The audience doesn't know he's a gangster yet, although they'll probably suspect from the way he's dressed. It'll either just be us, or it'll be us and the folks already in the frame at that point - the hot-dog guy, the cabbie, the newsboy, that sort of thing."

"I like that. Setting up the location as important, instead of the focus just being on Rocco." She winked. "Although I'm sure you'd love to have this dance solo."

"Not at all." He took her hand and bowed exaggeratedly. "My feelings aside, we still have a star to establish, after all."

She giggled and darted in for a quick peck on the cheek. Immediately, a voice rang out behind them. "Can't leave you two kids alone for a minute, can I?"

"Hi, Cosmo," she waved without turning around. "How's that closing number going?"

"It's done except for the bridge. Right now I've stolen something from a Cole Porter song that has the same rhythm for those eight bars, so we can still rehearse it; I'll fix it later." He ambled over to the edge of the puddle of light. "Or we could, if they'd brought a piano over here like I asked. It's thirty seconds to nine; why are you two already working?"

"We," Don said with a solemn mouth and merry eyes, "were just setting up for the _opening_ number. You know, the one you haven't written yet."

Cosmo drifted over to a pile of dropcloths behind the camera rig. "I know what it sounds like, but there's not much point in my writing it out for piano - that one's going to be an orchestral number. Never send a keyboard out to do a cello section's job, I always say."

Kathy shrugged lightly. "You know, you could sing it for us, just to give us an idea."

"Aha!" Cosmo tugged a pile of canvas aside, revealing an elfin upright piano, probably originally meant for a child. "They didn't bring me one; they left one here from two pictures ago. Well, let's find out how badly out of tune it is." He put both hands on one endpiece and pushed; Don strode over to the other end, and they eased it into place at the side of the stage, just past the light stands. Kathy searched around for a bench and finally came back with a short stool; Cosmo dropped it into place unceremoniously and sat down, cracking his knuckles.

"Opening or closing?" he said idly.

"You said you hadn't written out the opening yet," Kathy pointed out.

"I haven't, but I can still give you a general idea." Cosmo poised his hands over the keyboard. "Places, everybody!"

Don snorted. "Who's the director on this picture again?"

"Oh, some guy you've never heard of. Never directed a film before in his life," Kathy teased.

"They're courting disaster, I tell you. You guys gonna work out your choreography or what?" Cosmo flexed his hands again. Kathy and Don chuckled and found their places.

Cosmo's hands came down on a big, splashy opening chord, followed by a jaunty, strolling eight-bar figure. Don and Kathy took each other's arms and strutted down the space where the street would be laid out, a low kick on each step. Cosmo leaned into the piano; the music had a pinch of jazz, a handful of blues, a smidgen of ragtime. Don and Kathy wheeled, hands out as they pointed to people and places in their non-existent neighborhood; the piano rang out with a tinkling of shop bells, a blast of a car horn, a dog barking. Don did a leap onto what presumably would be a stoop; Kathy twirled on an invisible lamp-post. The music called up all the noise and bustle of a city, all with a lazy, street-corner undertone; Don and Kathy struck a pose, and it came to a traffic-jam halt.

"Not bad for one piano," Don said under a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, someone left this thing in tune, at least." Cosmo ran a hand across the top. "How about the dance?"

"Not bad for a first run," shrugged Don.

"It's missing something," Kathy announced.

Don looked at her quizzically, then nodded, as if he understood. "I think you're right. We're not going to be out there in front of the cameras by ourselves."

She pointed at the landscape that someone would paint in later. "There's the cabbie, the vendor, the newsboy, the lady hanging her laundry . . . "

"And someone's got to stand in for them, too, right?" Don gave Cosmo a smile that said the answer was already determined.

"Guys, I know you think I'm good, but even I can't dance and play the piece at the same time," Cosmo reminded them.

"We'll sing it," Kathy stated quickly, grabbing Cosmo's left wrist and tugging him to his feet.

Cosmo hesitated. "After only hearing it once? Did I plagiarize myself or something?"

"Nah, we can count it off," Don assured him. "Come on."

Cosmo tried to remember where the cabbie had been when Kathy started. "This okay?"

"Fine. One, two, three, four - " Don and Kathy rushed into each other's arms, then spun away and began the strutting kick-step they'd started with. Cosmo mimed shutting the door of the cab, and then Kathy had his hand again, spun him to where the trunk would be. An invisible bag came out, hung on her arm; she squeezed his hands, tossed him an invisible tip, and was back at Don's side. Cosmo shuffled the cab off.

Next, they twirled to the hot dog cart, and he popped up with what would have been mustard and ketchup. Somehow, as Kathy counted off and laughed, this turned into Cosmo and Don pantomiming spinning the cart, rolling it back and forth between them, and finally the two of them jumping acrobatically into the space where it would have been - they'd be on top of it if it were here - and doing a few steps of the Charleston.

He wasn't quite sure who he was supposed to be after that; he glanced at Don to cue him. Instead, Kathy took one hand again, and edged him into a jitterbug that hadn't been in their previous run, as Don clapped the beat. Cosmo shrugged, and played along, whirling her out and back in as his feet flashed.

She folded herself into a curl in his left arm. "You haven't come around in the past few days," she chided under her breath.

"Been busy with this score," he shrugged, giving her a twirl and tossing her back towards Don.

She and Don caught each other's hands and spun; she slung off on her own and took up the count, and Don made a balletic leap and landed next to Cosmo, starting the criss-cross tap step they'd used in so many of their vaudeville routines. "We've both missed you," he murmured over the sound of their shoes.

"Sorry," Cosmo shrugged as they did a tap-and-slide to the right. Truth was, he didn't want to disturb the lovebirds. They didn't seem to feel he was a third wheel, but he sure did.

Don changed to one of their more athletic bits, one that involved picking each other up. His hands, broad and smooth, a movie star's hands, slid over Cosmo's hips. "You don't think Kathy doesn't like you, do you?"

"No, but - " Cosmo was hoisted up; he windmilled his legs and landed in a run, circling Don. "I mean, you get so little time alone -"

Don started counting as Kathy slid in front of Cosmo and pulled him into a ballroom stance. "Cosmo, Don and I see each other every day, all day, at work."

"Exactly." Cosmo was confused. "You'd need some alone time afterwards."

"What we need," whispered Don as he came up behind him, shadowing their fox trot, "is someone to remind us who we are when we're not movie stars." No one was counting now, but they all knew the rhythm.

"Someone who knows and loves the real us, not the picture-perfect portraits on the posters," Kathy agreed, reaching around Cosmo for Don's shoulder.

"Someone who's been part of our dance since the start," Don whispered in Cosmo's ear, one arm around Kathy's waist, one around Cosmo's.

"I knew you guys came as a package deal from the beginning," Kathy said, eyes sparkling.

Cosmo was caught fast, pressed tight between them as they shuffled and swayed to the memory of the music. He was warm - warmer in some places than others; he tried to shift away from Kathy before she noticed. She giggled, swayed her hips against him, laid a peck just beneath his temple, and turned him to face Don without letting go. Don shifted into him just enough to let him know he wasn't the only one.

"What are you asking?" Cosmo whispered, afraid he was misunderstanding the whims of the pair of box-office draws.

"We're not asking, we're telling," Don chuckled, arm still tight around Cosmo's waist as he spun the three of them into a waltz tempo - counting off in three, instead of four.

Or two.

"No, Don, we _are_ asking," scolded Kathy quietly. "We're asking you to join us, Cosmo."

"For what?"

"For everything."

Don pressed a kiss to the unguarded spot below Cosmo's ear. Cosmo gulped.

Kathy's hand slid to his hip, just under Don's, as they twirled. One-two-three. "What do you say, Cosmo?"

He closed his eyes and let the rhythm guide him. "I'd be a fool to say anything other than yes."

"Knew you'd see reason." Don's grip changed to an embrace.

The sliding door rattled open again, and they unfolded, hands still clasped, into a chorus line routine without missing a beat. "One, two, three - kick!" Cosmo chanted, as Don and Kathy followed his instructions. "Okay, ready for the tempo change?"

"Hiya, Coltswood," Don called across the soundstage, as the lead cameraman staggered in with a box of lenses. The rest of the crew piled in behind him, starting the long business of setting up cameras and lights for the day's shooting.

"Hi, yourself. What are you guys doing here so early? I called last night and told you the stage wasn't going to be set up until noon." Coltswood unfolded a canvas chair and sat down with one of the cameras. "Your producer won't even be here for another half an hour."

"No one told me," Cosmo muttered.

"Me, either," said Kathy, giving Don a narrow stare.

"I must have forgotten," Don shrugged. "But we did work out a few things about the set while we were waiting. We're going to need a vintage hot dog cart, and the newsboy needs to be over there . . . "

"Typical _auteur_ already," Cosmo grumbled, turning away from the stage.

Kathy grimaced. "That's why he needs us both to keep him down to earth." She squeezed his hand. "But don't forget, Cosmo, we meant every word." She winked, as Don gestured her over to demonstrate the opening routine. "We both get quite a kick out of you."


End file.
